5 Times Tony Stood Between A Weapon And A Teammate
by Tempest's Rain
Summary: And One Time He Took A Hit For An Enemy WARNING: chapter three contains non-graphic, offscreen references to child murder and torture.
1. Steve's Perils With Pocketknives

It wasn't that Steve had never expected it would happen, it was just that he didn't imagine it playing out quite like _this._

For one thing, he had never thought that he would die while wearing a _tuxedo_ at a charity gala for helping children in war ravaged countries in the Middle East. No, he had always pictured that he'd go out in the heat of battle - not necessarily with a heroic sacrifice or anything as drastic as that, just... one day he'd take one too many hits, or get shot by the wrong bullet. Maybe he'd die surrounded by his teammates - his friends - or perhaps death would be instantaneous. At the very _least_ he'd be wearing a variation of his military gear.

For another thing, Steve had never considered that the cause of his death would simply be that he couldn't _move_ in order to save himself from an assassin. He didn't know what she had drugged him with, but it must have been something strong for it to have not been burned up by his enhanced metabolism. Fortunately, he could tell that the serum in his blood was fighting the paralytic, because Steve's body was beginning to overcome the extreme lethargy that had assaulted his limbs. Unfortunately, Steve could also see that it wouldn't be in time to stop his rapidly approaching, would-be assassin from killing him with a...

A _pocketknife..._ Oh, the irony.

Steve just added it the already unfortunately long list of regrets he had cultivated about this particular evening. To be fair, it had mostly been filled with things such as not eating before arriving, since it turned out that the only food being served were canapés that were both unsatisfying in their ability to sate his hunger and much too fancy for him to fully appreciate. He'd rather have a burger any day. Steve had also severely regretted his decision to not follow Tony's advice when the man had recommended that he bring a date _(any date; seriously, bring a goddamn agent if you have to)_ citing that he would definitely regret it if he didn't. Steve had just smiled and assured the billionaire that he'd be fine without a date, to which Tony looked doubtfully at him, shrugged and replied, _"Your funeral. If you don't want to take advice from the man who's attended just about every one of these sorts of things since he was a kid, then that's your choice. Live 'n learn."_

 _"You're not going with anyone,"_ Steve had pointed out. Tony just smirked.

 _"Yeah, but I know how to handle myself. I have experience. You, though,"_ Tony had looked him up and down with an unimpressed air, _"are an attractive, muscular, blonde war hero and living legend. Not to mention you're well-mannered, shy, traditionally courteous and positively_ adorable. _They'll be all over you like sharks smelling blood in the water. You'll be eaten alive if you don't have a shield, and I'm afraid you're usual one doesn't fit the dress code. You_ really _need a date to substitute, someone who_ won't _make you want to off yourself after a few hours in their company."_

 _"Tony, trust me, I'll be fine. I'm used to the dancing monkey routine. Besides, I doubt it will be_ that _bad."_

But, _oh,_ it was bad. Steve had lasted the first 10 minutes before admitting to himself that he should've listened to Tony. He'd never let Tony know that of course, although... he suspected that the other man was perfectly aware of his thoughts, judging by the smirks the genius had been sending across the room to him whenever he was accosted by politicians wishing to try and gain his support or discuss 'what a legend' he was, or when he was practically _corralled_ into dancing by women of all ages and various degrees of availability.

Five and a half months ago, Steve never would have imagined that he'd have made a friend out of Tony Stark. Their relationship had had a very rocky start in the hours before what the media had dubbed 'The Battle of New York', but Steve had admitted to himself that he was mostly at fault. He had been desperate to see Howard in Tony, but he was angry both because they were so similar in some ways, and so different in others. And Steve wasn't just referring to their physical differences. He knew now that Tony had a complicated relationship with his father. They didn't get on and Tony had blamed Howard for dying and taking his mother with him, but he also knew that Tony still loved him. Steve had also found out the hard way that comparing Tony to Howard, no matter what form, only angered the billionaire to the point that he would lash out in defence against the perceived slight - something that never ended well for Steve. In fact, the only thing that was worse than being on the receiving end of Tony's ire and sharp jabs, was facing his silence - his _true_ fury - and being blocked out entirely. That had only happened once, thank _God,_ and it was an experience that Steve wasn't in a hurry to repeat, especially when he had the rest of the team staring at him judgementally until he had fixed things.

But they had come a long way in the months since the invasion, and Steve was proud to call Tony his friend. They had managed to find a balance that worked well for them, in the field and off of it. Steve was still the leader on paper, and he made most of the more generalised calls, such as where his teammates were positioned at the start of a battle, but he always made sure to listen to the opinions of his teammates on subjects, and delegated the responsibility of decisions whenever he didn't fully understand the situation. He worked very well with Tony in this way, as the genius was a better tactical thinker than Steve had given him credit for, and whose ability to see the situation, analyse the variables and think outside the box to come up with multiple courses of action in the span of a few seconds made him excellent at making the plans. He was the one who in-battle questions were directed to and whenever he came up with a plan there was no hesitation in the rest of them to follow it, to _trust_ it.

Just five months of working and living together had turned the Avengers into a cohesive unit built on trust, one that every member of the team would be willing to die for. So when they had each received an invitation to attend the gala, Steve had agreed to attend with Tony, who was one of the main beneficiaries, and cover for the rest of the team who were all either busy or away.

Two and a half hours into the gala, which had been filled with stuffy ladies grasping for his attention and dreary, pompous men vying for his political favour, and Steve had had begun to feel a little sluggish. He had only eaten a few canapés and had a few glasses of wine in between being dragged off by different people, but the rapidly encroaching lethargy in his limbs made him wonder if he had been drugged. Steve barely had time to brace against a wall on the edge of the ballroom, his movements drowsy, before he collapsed against it, unable to move at all for a few moments. He recovered just enough to brace his back against the wall and look out to ensure that he wouldn't be taken by surprise by whoever had drugged him. Steve's movements were still far too slow to be able to defend himself if that became necessary, and he was having difficulty trying to call for help.

No one seemed to have noticed his collapse, which was ironic considering how hard pressed he had been to find a moment of solitude the entire evening, and Steve wasn't sure whether he should feel relieved or irritated that no one had come to his aid. One of the patrons should have noticed his distress by now, but at least he couldn't see any potential attackers approaching-

One of the prettier women Steve had been dancing with earlier was making a beeline towards him. She had enchanting, brown, doe eyes and beautiful, glossy, dark hair done up in a pretty style that was half up, half down. Her lipstick matched her dress, which was a deep, rose red and elegant, with a wide skirt that swished pleasantly when she twirled and that reached just below her knees, revealing pair of black, thin-strapped dance shoes. Steve remembered that she had been an excellent dancer with a politely teasing demeanour that he had experienced many times throughout that night, although he had found it more attractive coming from her. Something about the confident smirk she directed at him as she approached in a direct manner, made Steve feel like an insect that had been caught in a Venus flytrap. He was starting to panic when he first caught the silver glint of the pocketknife she was holding in the frills of her dress as she approached, a snake that had already bitten its prey finally going in for the kill.

Just when Steve was beginning to imagine how he would tell Howard - when he met him in heaven - that he was, in fact, killed with a _pocketknife,_ his vision was suddenly filled with the back of a man wearing an expensive suit - _Tony._ He barely had time to take in the fact that Tony - unarmed, unarmoured, unprotected, _unsafe_ Tony - had somehow noticed his plight and come between him and the threat, before one of the ladies apparently noticed what was happening and let out a scream, drawing the attention of all the attendees, who quickly cleared the area around Steve, Tony and the brunet, who looked annoyed at being discovered, but not worried.

"Well, shit. This was not how I was expecting my night to go," Tony said, the rest of the room dead silent. "Hey Cap, maybe you should have brought your shield after all."

Steve managed to get a few words out. "Tony... go. I can... handle this..."

The other man didn't even look at him, just responded in a voice heavily laced with the scepticism he clearly felt at that statement, not that Steve could blame him, "Uh-huh, sure. Will that be after you're able to stand without the wall, or when you can complete a sentence?"

"Tony-"

"Hush now, Steve. Let papa handle this." Tony still hadn't taken his eyes off the woman (Steve thought her name started with an 'A'. Amy? Audrey? Alice?) and he began addressing her next, "I don't tend to take kindly to people who drug and attempt to murder my friends, so how about you just drop the knife and then you can explain to us why you're trying to kill a national treasure, Ms-?"

"Alissa, Mr Stark," the woman answered in an unwavering, sultry voice. The teasing quality it had possessed earlier was once again present, but it had taken on a much crueller edge. "And I think I'm just fine with how things are currently proceeding."

Although Steve couldn't see the billionaire's face, he could actually _hear_ the smirk in Tony's voice, "I'm sure you are, _Alison -_ yes, I know who you are." Steve was the woman stiffen in shock for a moment, upon hearing the name, before recovering, although with considerably less confidence than before. "Given your skillset, I believe you know that you could take down just about anyone in this room who challenges you, _except_ your target. That's why you had to incapacitate him before making your move. Since no one from the security detail has come bursting in, I assume that you also drugged them?"

Alissa/Alison replied to the enquiry with an alluring smile. "Very good, Mr Stark. It seems that you're not just a genius in tech after all. But I'm afraid that won't do you much good, since you're unarmed and without the Iron Man suit and I am a professional. My contract doesn't mention you or anyone else, so if you step aside now, I won't have to kill you."

"Yeah, that's not happening," Tony replied with an ease that had Steve worrying that the other man was about to do something stupid. Sure enough... "You're pretty good, but this was B-list at best. I mean, I know you're real name and where you live already. It didn't take J too long to track that once I recognised you. No, I'm more curious about your employer in this case. I mean, what kind of sick, twisted person orders a hit on the apple pie poster boy? Who would even _take_ that contract?! An overconfident, predictable and amateurish _hussy,_ who is completely _desperate_ for either money or a bolster to her meagre reputation." Steve heard many of the bystanders gasp at Tony's assessment of Alison, and could see many of them turn to stare at the woman, waiting to see how she would react. Steve was able to see her face now, he saw the way her eyes hardened and her smile sharpened, and he began cursing Tony in his mind for further angering the assassin.

"You know, I've changed my mind. I rather think I will kill you, after all," Alison said after a pause, her voice still kept the light tone, but it had lost the flirty manner. "But if I'm not a threat, how come I'm the one who's armed and all you can do is talk? Can the great Tony Stark not take on a woman in a dress and high heels, armed only with a knife?"

Tony snorted at her mocking tone. "As soon as I make a move, you'll pull out that gun hidden under your dress- oh _please,_ it was pretty obvious. You're not as subtle as you like to think," the billionaire responded to the surprised look Alison sent him. "'Sides, I like how much I'm finding out at the moment. For instance, you don't know who your employer is, do you?"

Alison looked shocked. "How-?"

"You used a drug that worked well enough to take down someone with the super serum. I know how Cap's metabolism works - the poor guy can't even get drunk! There are only a few people on the planet who could find a way around that - and you're looking at one of them. If someone had figured out how to counteract Cap's metabolism and had been selling it or giving it out , we would've come across it before now. So that means you're the first person they've given it too, so they had to have been the one who hired you, or at least closely affiliated with the one who did. Whoever hired you wasn't stupid enough to let you know their identity. But if they've hired a broker, that puts up the cost of the hit exponentially so, meaning they're either loaded, or they have a company at their back. Hell, they could even be an organisation in general, rather than one person. But whoever they are, they're new to us, and given the quality of the drug, I'm going to assume you aren't the best they can - or _will_ \- be throwing at us in the future."

Alison levelled a menacing glare as the stupid genius finished his calm explanation of what he had gathered about whoever had ordered the hit on Steve. The rest of the rooms occupants, including Steve himself, were staring, impressed, at the man who had just dissected one tiny detail about the murder attempt, and had uncovered a wealth of clues about who they would need to look for - _if_ they got out of this alive.

"It seems I underestimated you, Mr Stark," Alison snarled at the brunet, her composure finally falling away to rage.

Tony just smirked in that patronising, cocky way of his that made people he really didn't like feel like idiots. It also had the side affect of filling them with the desire to punch it off his face. "Well, now you know for next time, Ally."

But 'Ally' was truly incited now, and gave a dark, ugly laugh. "Oh, there won't be a next time."

Steve watched in horror as, as soon as she had finished speaking, Alison lunged at Tony, pocketknife slashing, in quick, confident movements that should have been impossible with the ballroom dance shoes she was still wearing. The gala's patrons scrambled to get out of the way, and there were a few screams at Alison's sudden, unexpected movement. Luckily, Tony seemed to have anticipated the attack, as he swiftly sidestepped the knife and moved into a defensive melee stance that Steve hadn't even know him capable of.

Since Tony had deftly avoided the knife, he was no longer standing between Steve and his would-be assassin, but thankfully Alison was too angry and focused on killing Tony to notice that her original target was unprotected only a few steps away from her. It seemed that Tony's manoeuvre had only served to incense the assassin further, as she spun, in an almost feral state, to catch her quarry, who was leading her away from Steve and the other guests who were huddled together by the wall, watching the fight play out with wide, frightened eyes.

Steve noted with some relief that the drug he had been given seemed to be wearing off. He found that he was - thankfully - able to stand upright now, although his limbs were a little shaky and he wouldn't be able to keep up in the fight that the two brunets were engaged in. Well, it was mostly Tony avoiding woman and her knife, but he would go on the offensive every time she seemed to be reaching for something - Steve remembered what Tony had said about a hidden gun earlier and he was grateful that the other man had noticed that crucial detail. He had to say that Tony was fairing better than he had expected, considering that the man usually only fought within the suit - although he had learned that Tony had taken self defence classes. He hadn't realised that the genius was skilled enough to last against an assassin, however.

 _'Maybe he should start joining us in our sparring sessions,'_ Steve thought absently, imagining what the Avengers' bi-weekly sparring routines would look like with Tony added to the mix. However, just because Tony was better than expected, didn't mean that he would be able to beat Alison, especially since he was unarmed. Eventually he would tire out, or Alison would get a hit in with the knife, or she'd finally manage to draw her gun, and that would be the end of it. Steve fervently hoped he would recover soon enough to stop that from happening.

The two of them had slowly but steadily crossed the room as they were fighting, Alison following Tony as he retreated in the direction of the five stairs that went to a dais, lined with pillars, that lead to a small, lobby-like entry and a pair of glass doors - the exit. Steve couldn't tell if Tony was heading that way on purpose or if he was simply trying to keep away from the assassin, but he soon found himself moving as quickly as he could over to help his friend. Neither of them seemed to notice him as he approached, and he was only about 6 metres away when he saw Tony about to walk into the first step.

"Tony! The stairs!" he shouted in warning, and the other man curved his direction at the last moment, pivoting but so that he didn't stop facing his opponent. Alison, who had just launched herself at Tony once again, recovered quickly by moving to the top of the stairs and swiftly pulling out her trim little pistol before anyone could stop her. Tony and Steve both froze as she aimed the pistol at the man who had caused her so much trouble that evening, and behind them Steve could make out one of the civilian's wail of despair. Alison had a triumphant gleam in her - somewhat maddened - eyes, but all Steve could think of was how he would be able to tell Pepper and Bruce that the love of their life and best friend, respectively, had been murdered for defending him. Steve watched, anger and despair warring within him, as Alison opened her mouth, most likely to make a mocking quip before she pulled the trigger on one of the few friends Steve had, and-

 _Clang!_

-her eyes rolled up in the back of her head and she fell to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.

Silence.

"Finally! Hey, Hap, thanks for the save, but what the hell took you so long?" Tony's unsurprised exclamation had Steve blinking in bewilderment as Happy Hogan, Tony's bodyguard and friend, stepped out from behind one of the pillars, a silver serving tray hanging comfortably in his grip by his side after he had used it to smack Alison in the back of the head, taking the assassin off guard and knocking her unconscious.

Happy glared at Tony as he replied, "I was getting coffee across the road." The man's tone turned flat and severely unimpressed. "And what the hell were _you_ doing?! Getting into a fight with an assassin!? Can't I ever go to one of these _damn_ parties without having to worry about you getting killed?! Why are you so determined to be murdered?! Seriously! Even when it's not you they come after, you somehow manage to end up being the one with a gun aimed at you!"

"Aw, I knew you loved me!" Happy glared at his employer again, but Steve could see relief in his expression and his anger seemed to have died down as his panic left him.

Happy ignored the glib response in favour of giving his boss another order, "Just don't do anything so stupid again."

This time, Tony gave a small, genuine smile to accompany an honest answer, "I'll try, Happy."

Happy huffed, "Somehow, I doubt that'll do much good."

"You're probably right."

Tony turned to Steve then, as Happy began securing the unconscious assassin.

"You alright, Cap? That drug hasn't had any permanent effects, has it?"

"No, I'm fine," Steve reassured the other man. And he was. "Hey, thanks."

Tony gave a small smile. "Hey, don't worry about it. I was getting bored anyway. Maybe more of these galas should end with a semi-decent assassination attempt - uh, don't tell Happy I said that."

Steve quirked a small. "I have to agree with you there. Don't worry, your secret's safe with me. And _'semi-decent'?_ I thought you said she was an 'overconfident, predictable, amateurish hussy'"

Tony barked a surprised laugh, "Naw, I just said that to rile her up. She had a good plan, but she let her emotions cloud her judgement. Rule one of business and assassination; 'never let things get personal'."

Steve smiled as the genius who had just saved his life - by standing between him and an _assassin_ with a blade - went into a tangent of what had made Alison a competent assassin and what had made her unprofessional, apparently oblivious to the way his voice carried and Happy's glares as he heard some of how his boss had antagonised the assassin after coming between her and her target. Steve was just glad that he had decided to get to know Tony as someone other than a snarky billionaire in a metal suit, or just _'Howard's son'._ He was also determined that when he did finally die, he wouldn't be killed by a _blasted pocketknife._


	2. Hulk's Complications With Cannons

When Hulk woke up, he was rather confused.

He had come _out_ in the middle of a large space with a high roof and concrete floors. Hulk was restrained with heavy metal shackles on his wrists and ankles that had short, thick chains that attached his feet to the ground and his hands to two metal poles on either side of him. Hulk tried to break out of the chains, but found they were too strong, like those magic chains that had once caught him. The centre of the area, where he was standing, was raised above the rest of the room, except for a platform straight in front of him that contained lots of computers and science-machines. Slightly in front of all of that, there was a shiny, silver cylinder, that looked both similar to things he had seen in Banner's science room and to the big guns - cannons - that enemies had used on him before. The whole situation was unexpected, but none of that was the real reason Hulk was confused.

It was the silence. It was never silent when Hulk came _out_ and Banner went away _inside._ There was always the sound of weapons firing, people screaming, enemies shouting. Hulk only came _out_ because of fear - because Banner felt fear, or because people felt fear - and that meant that there was always the _sound_ of fear - whether it was cowering-fear, paralysing-fear, wary-fear, polite-fear or angry-fear. People were always afraid whenever Hulk came _out,_ whether they were afraid of him or afraid of whatever he had woken up to fight... Except...

Except for Tony _(Metal-Man, Tin-Man,_ _Shellhead_ , **_friend_** ). Tony was never afraid of Hulk. Tony never overlooked him, either. Tony never forgot that he was real person, too. He never lied to him. He understood that he was not Banner. He knew that he was more than just a strong fighter. He always listened to him, and took his opinions and ideas into account.

Hulk had once woke up in his team's glass tower home. He had been very confused then, too, because he had been slumbering _inside_ and he'd had no idea why he had suddenly come _out_ feeling angry-paralysing-fear - why he'd felt the need to run and fight (and run and defend and run and leave and _run)_ until he was safe. He had come _out_ in a messy, colourful, shiny science room. Hulk couldn't see the danger that had brought him _out,_ which had made him feel a lot more angry-fear. He had looked around the room rapidly, sniffing the air to try and catch the scent of the threat. He had growled aggressively when he couldn't find what had caused him to come _out._

 _"Hey, Bruce! I heard a crash, are you-"_ Hulk had spun around, snarling and body poised, ready to attack, at the sound of a voice. A person had been standing in a doorway - not one of the dangerous people who wore dark uniforms and carried weapons and who were always attacking him with angry-fear, or watching him and waiting with wary-fear. He had been wearing random-comfortable-different-clothes, like what the people that Hulk and his team always saved wore. The ones that always screamed. But the person didn't scream, and Hulk had soon recognised the person to be Tin-Man, but the vulnerable side of the man that only Banner got to see. Hulk had immediately relaxed upon seeing him, because he knew he could trust him. He remained on guard, though, so that if whatever had brought him _out_ showed itself, he would be able to defend himself and his teammate.

Hulk had expected to smell paralysing-polite-fear from Tony, like he always did on the others. He had thought that the small man would be wary (angle his body so he could watch him out of the corner of his eye, voice take on a soothing tone and slow pace, back away slightly and put down what he was holding so his hands would be free for action). But when Hulk had glanced back at Tony again, he had seen nothing more than surprise. No fear - of any kind. No eneasiness. Just simple, honest surprise at seeing him there, like he was a friend he had thought was out of town and who had ended up in his home. Hulk had been stunned for a moment at interpretting that, but he had soon recovered and began glaring around the science room, searchin for the threat.

 _"Enemy around here. Banner feels fear,"_ he had rumbled in explanation for his presence.

Tony had looked alert and had warily gazed around the room in response. There was silence as the two teammates looked to find what had scared Banner, before Tony had released an _"Oh"_ that was heavy with an emotion that Hulk had yet to identify. Hulk's eyes sped to where Tony had been looking, and he stared in confusion at a smashed soft chair near where Hulk had woke, that had blankets scattered around the floor near it.

 _"What?"_ he had asked in confusion.

Tony had looked at him before replying, _"I think Bruce had a nightmare."_

Hulk had been able to figure out what Tony meant from there by himself, but he had still been surprised when the other man hadn't explained further. People often explained things in a lot of detail to him when they wanted him to understand something, but Tony knew he was smart enough to figure this bit out by himself. Hulk had had nightmares before, sometimes he shared ones with Banner, but sometimes they were **_his_** and he saw them alone.

Once Hulk had realised that there was no danger, and that it would be safe for Banner to come _out_ when he woke, he had simply huffed and sat down heavily. Hulk had been used to Tony as Metal-Man treating him without any fear and like an equal, but he had still been surprised when Tony, as just a person, hadn't flinched and backed away at his sudden movement. Even the people that liked Hulk - even Betty, who had only ever felt polite-fear around him - would have reacted in alarm.

 _"You ok?"_ Tony had asked then. Hulk just snorted and nodded.

 _"You know,"_ Hulk looked to **his** **friend** when he began speaking again, _"we don't really talk much outside of battles. I mean, I guess we do afterwards, but we've never just hung out before... So, do you wanna eat ice cream and watch_ Star Wars _with me?"_

That was one of Hulk's favourite memories of being _out._ That night, he had understood that Tony was not just Banner's friend, not just Hulk's teammate, but _Hulk's_ friend as well.

Hulk was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of voices entering the space.

"-but if they-!" a panicked voice was saying, high pitched and sounding like he was feeling cowering-fear.

"They won't," a firm, deep, much more confident voice cut him off. "We just have to do it now instead. Go prep the equipment."

Hulk growled loudly in anger when the two owners of the voices walked past him. Both froze then, in shocked fear before staring at him.

"Oh _God._ It's _awake,"_ whimpered the first voice. He was wearing a white science-coat with black people-pants and shoes. He had light brown, straight hair and Hulk was able to smell the cowering-paralysing-fear coming from him.

"Don't worry," said the second voice, regaining some of his confidence, although he stilled looked and sounded like he felt wary-angry-fear. He had curly, black hair and wore black framed, square glasses. He was taller than the other man, and was wearing clothes like his, but his sleeves were rolled up. "If it was able to get out of those chains, we'd already be dead. We don't have time to put him back to sleep, so we'll just have to do it while he's awake. Go prep the equipment," the man ordered again.

They both made their way up to the platform, while Hulk snarled and strained against his chains again. The shorter man rushed over to the computers, rapidly typing and pressing buttons in a jittery manner that betrayed his fear, while the taller man walked around behind the cannon and did something that caused a few lights to flare up. Neither of them looked at Hulk, likely out of fear and an attempt to dehumanize him.

The shorter man spoke, sounding the most sure he had the entire time, but not by much, "One minute until we can do this."

The other man glanced at him and nodded. "Everyone else?"

"They're on their way, but..."

"-But the Avengers are on to us. We''ve got backup just outside, but it's smart not to have too many people. We don't need any attention right now. I have a feeling that the Avengers wont take too kindly to us killing their WMD."

"Yeah. Hey, when we-"

A sudden _crash_ cut him off, and Hulk and the two men looked up in surprise and shock to where Iron Man had burst through the roof of the room.

"AHHH. No, NOPE, no, no, no!" Tony looked like he was having a hard time staying in the air as he flew jerkily. His chest plate, helmet and most of his arm guards were missing, and the red and gold plating that was left was scratched. The jets that let him fly in his boots and his hands weren't firing as smoothly as usual. Hulk was annoyed that he hadn't been able to help his friend in whatever battle he had just come from.

Tony eventually came to a stop in front of Hulk. "Hi, bud. You right?"

Hulk looked at him and rattled the chains pointedly, "What do _you_ think?"

Tony nodded, "Good point. I don't have enough power to fry those right now, if they're strong enough to hold you back. Once we sort out this, though, I'll get you out." Tony then turned around to face the two men who had captured Hulk. "Ok, look... I don't even..." he shook his head in bewilderment, "What the hell are you even _doing?"_

The tall man recovered from his shock, _"We,_ Stark, are doing what someone should have done _years_ ago - what _you_ should have done for the safety of the world. We're going to destroy the world's most volatile and powerful weapon of mass destruction. We're going to put the thing out of its misery, for its own good and the good of the world."

Hulk could feel sad-anger building inside of him, and he could see the same thing happening to Tony, "Weapon of mass destruction?!" Tony spoke slowly, angrily enunciating each word, _"Thing?!_ You're talking about a person! It wouldn't even _work,_ anyway! Haven't you _seen_ how many times people have tried to kill him over the years? All you're gonna do is piss him, me and all our friends, off."

"Friends? Don't make me laugh," the man spoke cruelly, "You're not friends with that abomination. He's just a useful weapon - a _tool_ \- that you drop into cities to fight battles, with no regard for the people who live in them."

Hulk thought he would probably have said more, but the other man interjected, attracting everyone's attention with his hysterical, "It's ready!"

"Good."

"What's ready? What does the cannon do?" Tony asked then.

"This, Stark, is the cannon that is going to kill the Hulk," the taller man said with pleasure. "Now get out of the way."

"Like hell I will!" Tony moved so he was directly in between Hulk and the cannon.

"Don't worry, Stark, this won't hurt it for too long. Besides, if our calculations are correct, it _will_ leave Dr Banner completely unharmed, and cured of the monstrosity. You see, this is an anti-gamma radiation cannon - the first of its kind. The AGR cannon was something we invented to save areas that were covered in nuclear fallout. We found that it removes gamma radiation from an area and can regress the damage done to the point that there ceases to be any. We can turn radioactive objects back to their previous state! It wasn't too hard to figure out how to alter it so it could completely destroy the Hulk instead."

"It'll completely wipe out Hulk and leave Bruce just as he was," Tony muttered in understanding.

"Precisely! So we'd appreciate it if you could move out of the way, it is likely to have a fatal affect if it hits you as you are. One side affect of our alterations to the cannon is that it causes metals to heat up to extreme temperatures. We don't want to kill anyone, we just want to protect our world from the monster. The doctor will live and the creature will be wiped from the earth, like all such mistakes should be."

"Oh, _fuck_ you!" Hulk heard Tony snarl in protect-anger, "Who the hell are you to decide whether Hulk lives or dies? He is just as much a person as you or I, and he's a better one than both of us combined. Hulk may have been an accident, but he sure as _hell_ wasn't a mistake! And oh, yeah, he's my friend, so you're gonna have to fire that cannon at me, 'cause I sure as hell ain't moving. Plus, with the frankly appalling levels of power in here, you're only gonna have one shot before you need to recharge. And seeing as the model is based on Loschev's solar cannon, I'm going to guess that will take about three hours. Our team will be hear by then, and if I'm dead they are going to fuck. You. Up. So _there!"_

The taller man scoffed in anger, "You'd really risk your life for that weapon - that _thing?"_

"Pretty sure my speech expressed my standpoint on this whole situation pretty clearly, but if you didn't catch the message, it's _fuck yeah, asshole!"_

 _"Why?!"_

"'Cause he's my friend." Hulk rumbled in light-happy at Tony's simple response. He appreciated that that was the only reason that Tony would need to protect him, but he was also feeling protect-fear-anger. Hulk did not want to die, but he did not want Tony to die more.

"Metal-Man move now," he said forcefully.

Tony didn't even look at him, "Nope."

"Move."

"No," this time he turned to face him, his feet-jets sparked, causing him to dip in the air for a moment. "I won't."

Hulk was annoyed, but before he could begin to insist again, Tony suddenly turned back to face the tall man who was now aiming the cannon directly at Hulk's chest. Tony moved quickly so his arms and legs were spread out and he was straight in the path of the cannon.

The man spoke again, his voice low and violent-angry, "Move now, Stark, or die."

"Bring it, bitch."

Hulk roared in desperation as the man muttered, "Very well," and strained against the chains in fear-anger so that his - **_HIS_** \- friend wouldn't die.

Then Tony continued speaking, "But then you'll have to deal with Rhodey - who's right over there, by the way," Everyone looked to where Tony had gestured with his head to see a bigger, grey version of Tony's Iron Man, who had his hand's fire-circle and shoulder-guns all aimed at the man behind the cannon "- and he'll be pretty pissed off, I imagine, if you kill me. Like, seriously, he'll actually kill you. Where you stand. And it won't be quick. It'll also be really painful."

"Step away from the cannon, get on your knees and put your hands on your head," the grey Metal-Man spoke, his voice sounding weird like Tony's whenever he wore helmet.

The man by the computers did so immediately, reeking of cowering-fear. The tall man looked angry and didn't move for a moment, but when the grey Metal-Man shouted "Now!" he did so, too. Once Tony and the grey Metal-Man had made sure that the men couldn't move, they flew up to where Hulk was still stuck.

"But seriously, Tony, what the hell?! You do realise that you have no actual armour on, you're unarmed, and I _know_ you have a concussion-" The grey Metal-Man's armour-face wasn't on, and the voice was no longer different. It was now protect-worry-angry.

"Honeybear, it's fine-"

"No it's bloody not! You were taunting the bad guy - who had a _cannon_ that could have cooked you inside _and_ outside and that _had said cannon_ aimed directly at you! What were you thinking!? I _swear,_ your sole purpose in life is to make me die of a heart attack!"

"Hey, no fair! _I_ 'm the one with the hear condition, remember?"

"Yes, I damn well remember! That's why you were in danger of being cooked from the inside out, if _you_ remember! Why would you even _do_ that!? Seriously, I can give you fifteen different reasons right now for why that was a _stupid_ idea!"

Tony looked at Hulk, who had been watching the conversation between the two Metal-Men with amusement. "And I can give you one for why it wasn't that trumps them all. Rhodey, this is Hulk, my friend. Hulk, Rhodey, here, is my platypus."

'Rhodey', who had been looking at Hulk with interest and a small amount of polite-fear, looked shocked when Hulk laughed and said, "He looks more like a penguin than a platypus."

Tony exploded with laughter, which made Hulk feel proud-happy, before he turned back to Rhodey and said, "Hey p- oh my god, I can't even... Penguin! Hahaha! Could you use a laser on the cuffs? I'm kinda outta juice. Hahaha!... Penguin!..."

"Yeah, sure," Rhodey replied, still stunned before he got to work, leaving Hulk and Tony to have a much needed conversation about there friendship.

"You wanna go back to the tower with me and Rhodey? We can get hot dogs on the way?"

That said it all, really. So Hulk smiled.


	3. Natasha's Horrors With Handguns

Natasha didn't know how she had come to be in this situation.

Not the 'being tied up with a gun pointed straight at her head' part, that she was fully capable of understanding. She was a superspy after all, and she was used to situations where she was captured with the very real threat of torture and death looming above her. She was also used to being betrayed, once again, it was par for the course. No, that wasn't what had her confused.

What had her confused was that she hadn't expected this betrayal.

When (former) Agent Lisa Vertandez had contacted her, asking for her help with an unofficial mission Hill had assigned her, Natasha had come. Like a spider walking into a web she wasn't expecting to have been spun.

Natasha would laugh if she wasn't so annoyed at herself. Hadn't DC taught her anything? Hadn't those three months of looking through the data she had released on the agents shown her that even people she trusted could betray her? Hadn't the number of her former comrades who turned out to be HYDRA been high enough?

Shouldn't she, the Black Widow, star of the Red Room, Avenger, be better than that?

Apparently not, because she had been taken completely off guard when, while Vertandez kept her distracted, another former agent – whose name she didn't know – snuck up behind her and pricked her neck with a paralytic that was too much for even the bastardized super serum she had running through her veins to combat.

But why? Why had Vertandez betrayed her? Natasha _knew_ the other agent wasn't a member of HYDRA (she had double checked the data on her before coming to meet her because despite the current evidence to the contrary, Natasha _was_ careful), so why had she been caught so off guard?

Natasha knew she should have asked Tony to go through everything in that data dump. She hadn't seen the genius for just over three months, only a week before DC had happened. She had gone to apologise for not being able to help with the Mandarin incident (where she had thought he was _dead_ ) and check up on him for her own piece of mind, not that she would ever admit that last part (though she was sure that Clint – at least – knew).

Some would think that she had grown to care about the genius after he had shown his true metal and grown up, by sacrificing himself to get rid of that nuke, but they would be wrong. No, her fondness for Tony Stark hadn't come about through any change on his part, but rather from hers. It had come from her gaining some perspective and then being able to recognise what, exactly, Tony was.

The Battle of New York had changed a lot of things, but it hadn't changed Tony Stark. He hadn't had to grow out of his pride and learn to follow orders, he hadn't had to get over his ego and stop fighting solo, and he hadn't had to learn that he wasn't invaluable and be convinced to sacrifice himself. Natasha knew that many people thought that was what had happened, but she - who had been there on the ground and in the air, who had fought with him, who had seen everything and felt the way the six of them had just… _clicked_ – knew now that that was already who Tony Stark was.

The incident on the hellicarrier and the Battle of New York hadn't changed anything about who Tony was, but it had stripped away his mask for those few hours, long enough for Natasha to realise it. And if it hadn't been for the crisis with the Hulk, Natasha knew that she might not have recognised it. She had realised it, of course, as she froze up after barely surviving the attack of Bruce's big, green alter ego, and she knew something within her had changed, but she had never expected it to be for the better.

She had stopped looking at everything and everyone as a mark, just then, and had seen everything everyone else did as a fellow human. She recognised the kindred spirit she shared with the other Avengers, for just sharing a common will to fight, to live, to protect, and, if all else failed, to avenge. That was when she had really started to believe in the dream. That was when Coulson's words finally became more than words to her. It was when, for a few hours at least, she dedicated the entirety of herself to a cause greater than her, and more important than surviving.

And after the battle, when she turned back into _Agent_ Romanov, a part of that stayed in her. She knew she was changed, even as the world became a game once more.

She was both thankful and scared of that, because while now she had five – _six,_ Hulk and Bruce were two different people - people who watched her back and fought with her and who she trusted, they were also – each and every one of them – weaknesses that could be exploited. She was vulnerable as long as she trusted and cared for them, and Natasha would have done her best to prevent it, but she knew – she _knew_ – from experience, with Clint, that that would be impossible to fight.

She thought back to a conversation she'd had with Tony once.

 _"_ _I know what you're thinking." Natasha looked up from where she was sitting on the sofa in Star-_ Avengers _Tower to where Ton-_ Stark _was nursing a cup of coffee at the table. Thor had just left the room, stating that he wanted Clint to take him to the movie theatre, as the Asgardian had just learned of its existence and wanted to watch_ The Hunger Games _now that he knew what the archer had been talking about all week. There had been silence between the remaining humans for about fifteen seconds, each lost in their own thoughts, before To-_ Stark _decided to break it._

 _Natasha raised a brow, curious and not mocking like that gesture once would have been. "Do you really?"_

 _Tony just gazed at her, his hair frazzled from too much time spent in his workshop without sleep. "It's different from what you're used to. Finding a team… it's not quite like finding a partner is it?"_

 _Natasha paused for a moment, thinking about Clint and – as she guessed that was who Tony was referring to – James Rhodes, "No. It's not."_

 _They sat in companionable silence for a moment, their thoughts running parallel, then…_

 _"_ _You know," Tony began thoughtfully, "the darkness isn't gonna scare them off, or taint them."_

 _Had he said that a month ago, before the Avengers had been called in and formed a team, Natasha's head would have whipped up to stare at him. She would have been worried, vulnerable, angry and sad. Maybe even scared. But since she had begun to recognise herself in every individual that resided at the tower, well, she could say she wasn't entirely surprised. A little bit, perhaps, but not entirely._

 _"_ _I don't want to show it to them, though," Natasha eventually replied softly, but not scared of how this would affect Tony's opinion of her. She knew he'd understand._

 _"_ _None of us do," he gazed at the contents of the mug, "but if and when they do see… they'll still be there after. The worst that'll happen is they gain some perspective. Isn't that what happened with Clint?"_

 _Natasha didn't answer. She didn't need to. Tony continued after a moment._

 _"_ _His shadows aren't as dark, but they're still there, so I expect that made it easier for him to understand. But we all have them too, Natasha. We can all recognise it, and we'll_ understand _even if we don't_ understand _."_

Natasha had never thanked him for that. She wasn't supposed to. But she still thought back to what he'd said sometimes, when she felt she needed to hear it. That acceptance had meant more to her than anything anyone else except Clint and Fury had ever given her.

Natasha snapped back into the present when Vertandez, realising that her prisoner was awake, spoke to alert her companion of this fact, the handgun not wavering from her face.

"She's awake," her voice was detached, as though they hadn't once been something near friends. The other one paused whatever he was doing and slowly walked over to them, as Natasha glanced around her surroundings more thoroughly. She didn't bother being discreet, as she knew that Vertandez would already be expecting her to do something similar.

Natasha was in what she supposed to be a teachers' lounge in the college she had broken into to meet with Vertandez. Her back was to a support beam, which she was tied to with a strong, silvery SHIELD-issued cord, that was flexible like rope, but stronger than chains and very difficult to cut without the proper equipment. She could see two doors leading out of the room, but they were both too far away to be of any use. Her hands had been bound to the pole above her head, her ankles below her, and her midriff behind her. It wasn't the worst position she had ever been put in, but she knew that she would have a lot of trouble getting out with the two ex-SHIELD agents watching her. She had worked with Vertandez before, and while she was no match for the Black Widow in a fight, she was sharp enough that she should not be underestimated. And the male had already proven capable of sneaking up behind her, so the same went for him.

Deciding she had enough data about the room to go with for now, Natasha began working on taking control of the situation in the way she did best: fact finding and manipulation.

"I have to say, I'm a little hurt, Vertandez. I thought we were friends." Natasha began, her tone revealing a little bit of her confusion and hoping that she could goad one of the agents into speaking. She was not disappointed, but she was still surprised by what was said next.

"You know, Romanov, so did I. But I guess now we've both learned our lesson." Vertandez's voice was cold and… _enraged_ , despite the overlying professionalism. That was something Natasha didn't expect.

She was further surprised when the male agent placed a steadying hand on Vertandez's shoulder and spoke in a deep voice that was raspy in a way that Natasha recognised all too well from both herself and others who had been through hell and back. It was particularly common in agents who had been captured for a long period of time. It was a voice that was suffering from strained vocal chords that had been abused by an excess of screaming. People who had been tortured often found themselves with the affliction, though Natasha hadn't screamed in years – she hadn't yet encountered anything that could live up to the pain she had undergone in the Red Room.

"Vertandez, don't let her manipulate you. She has no power right now, so don't give her any."

Vertandez looked at the other ex-agent for a moment before nodding in acceptance and stepping back. The male watched her for a moment before returning his attention to Natasha.

"I was planning on drawing this out. Making you feel the pain you caused us, but I think it would be better if we just killed you," he rasped, in a calm, serious voice, causing Natasha to worry, because right now she was vulnerable, and he was completely serious, and she _still_ didn't know _why_ they wanted her dead. From their exchange… she knew that this wasn't about HYDRA. This was personal. But what…?

All thoughts cut off as Vertandez walked back and releveled the gun, so it was pointing right between Natasha's eyes.

 _Bang!_

The three agents, captive and captors alike, started at the sound of a gun going off outside the room.

 _Bang bang bang!_

 _CRASH_

"Rex?" Natasha heard the male agent call into a com at the sound of glass breaking. He moved over to the door on the left side of the room as he spoke, Vertandez watching cautiously.

The com crackled before a tense male voice spoke.

 _"_ _I need backup out here, I- SHIT! I repeat, I need backup here, now!"_

The male agent immediately ran out the door, only pausing once to look back at Vertandez, "You OK for this, or do you wanna deal with Romanov first?"

Vertandez didn't look at her as she answered, "I- I need to do this, but it can wait until after. Let's go," she grew more determined towards the end, and soon both strode out of the room, prepared for battle, and not sparing a single glance for Natasha.

As soon as the agents had left the room, Natasha began working on freeing herself. It was difficult, as she couldn't cut the rope with anything less than a professional knife, and she couldn't reach the one hidden in her shoe because of the rope tied around her waist which prevented her from bending. That meant she had to resort to wriggling her way out, which was manageable but time consuming and she had no idea how long she had before her captors returned. Less than two minutes later and she had almost freed her hands, when the door on the right opened and none other than Tony Stark – sans suit - stepped in. He beelined to where she was tied up and pulled out some sort of laser, but before he could use it to free her, the three ex-SHIELD agents burst in through the door, guns trained on Natasha and Tony.

Before they could take the opportunity to shoot, Tony immediately placed himself between Natasha and the agents, in a reckless, _stupid_ move that Natasha vowed to chew him out for later if they survived this.

"Stark," she growled, angry and worried, _"Move."_

He replied without looking at her, his concentration entirely on the three guns trained on him. "Sorry Tasha. No can do."

Before she could say anything else, the agent she had heard over the com spoke up.

"That was pretty clever, sending the suit off as a distraction while you snuck around to free her," he sounded appreciative of the trick in a way that almost reminded Natasha of Clint, but also steely and dangerous, leaving no doubt that he was planning on killing someone today. Natasha just hoped that that someone didn't end up being Tony.

"I'm known for being pretty clever," Tony responded amiably, "but I had hoped it would take you longer to realise that I wasn't still in it."

"I'm trained in combat analysis," the agent said in explanation, "but it was a pretty convincing ruse. How come you didn't just shoot us?"

Tony shrugged, "That one's a prototype, so it has repulsors but no other ammunition. Not particularly effective against agents. Unfortunately, that was what I was testing when I found out Natasha had been nabbed. I didn't have to time to change."

"How did you find out?" The male agent with the raspy voice asked, curious but still wary.

"I got a tipoff from Hill, while I was testing the armour over the water, that someone was gunning for the Black Widow, and when I couldn't find her, and she didn't answer her phone or her com, I had her traced to here. I called for backup though."

"If you had backup, they'd be here right now," the agent replied immediately, "that means they're too far out to be of any help to you now."

Natasha watched Tony tilt his head, neither confirming nor denying. "Thor won't be long."

"Maybe," Vertandez said, "but that's still too long for you. Step aside, Stark. We have no quarrel with you."

Tony didn't move, "I can't."

The agent from the com spoke again, "Stalling for the armour to return won't do you any good. Of the three of us, at least one will make shot even if it comes blasting in."

"I know," Tony said calmly and determinedly, "but I still can't."

"She's not your friend," the rasping voice spoke, "She's not loyal to you. I doubt she's even capable of loyalty."

"Stark, move," Natasha hissed again, but Tony ignored her and looked back at the male agent.

"So that's why you didn't shoot her when you had the chance," he said softly. "This isn't a professional hit, this is personal. Revenge."

None of the agents reacted outwardly to this, but Natasha could see that Tony was right. This was personal, this was revenge. But for what? Tony asked the question aloud.

"It's revenge for something recent too. Something raw. Am I right?"

There was a long pause before Vertandez spoke, "I had a fiancé. David. And a sister, who had a husband. Rachel and Elliot. They were on my file, as my immediate family. That information was released into the internet, by Romanov. They're dead because of that."

Oh.

No.

No, no, no, _no, no, no no no no nonononononono._

No, because that- that means-

No.

 _NO!_

But Natasha realised what that meant.

She hadn't given it a second thought at the time. Releasing that information Sinking both SHIELD and HYDRA together. Doing whatever it took to save those millions of people from Project Insight.

Three months later and she hadn't realised until that moment that, through her actions, she had killed perhaps thousands of innocents. She had their blood on her hands. She had many, many red names in her ledger, but she didn't know how many. How many she had condemned.

And it wouldn't just be assassination either. No, she knew the sort of people that would be hunting for SHIELD agents and their families. No, for some, there would be torture involved. Maybe even on children.

What had she done? What hadn't she done? Why hadn't she-?

"I'm sorry," Natasha focused on Tony's voice, more solemn than she had ever heard it. She was aware that she deserved it, that Tony definitely shouldn't die for her _(not now- Not when- Not after-)_ but she couldn't help but hope that he would just stand aside and let them kill her. Selfishly, Natasha didn't want to have to hear Tony's words condemn her. She didn't want to have to look into his face before she died.

Tony's promise to her – all those months ago – had been about the darkness that had created her, that she had seen and that she had been. It hadn't been about her committing another act, not like this, not when it killed innocents. He wouldn't accept this darkness, not when it was so fresh, and he shouldn't have to.

"My name is… _was_ Agent Lu," male agent with the rasping voice spoke, following Vertandez's example, "I have no family, but I had my team. We were compromised in the middle of a mission, due to that data dump. They were lucky enough to be shot outright… I wasn't."

Tony didn't say anything this time. Then the last agent finished.

"Lillian, my wife… she was pregnant. She survived the shot, but the baby didn't." He swallowed before continuing stoically, "Neither did my partner, de Lares. I couldn't even recognise him after what… what…" he took a deep breath, "It wasn't quick. De Lares' wife's dead now, too. So's Evie – that's one of his daughters."

"I'm so sorry," Tony said. Natasha was too but wouldn't say it. The agents did not want to hear it from her, not right now.

"That's why she needs to die," Natasha heard Vertandez say, her voice no longer angry, just… devastated. "That's why you need to move, right now."

Natasha silently begged for Tony to do as they asked without saying anything. She had the strange feeling that he had heard her.

"I still can't do that," Tony said, his voice still solemn, "I'm not doing this for a greater good thing, or a forgiveness spiel. I know revenge. I've know the _need_ for revenge. I don't blame you for wanting it. But I can't stand aside and let Tasha die. She's my friend, and a part of my family. I hope you understand that."

Before any of the agents could reply, Tony cocked his head, as though listening to something. "JARVIS wants to say something."

Natasha, saw the shock in the agents' faces as a nearby speaker crackled and the familiar British voice spoke.

"What Mr Stark is trying to say, is that in order to kill Miss Romanov, it's more than likely you will have to kill him. I do understand the desire for revenge, as I have seen it and felt it myself, but I beg you, Mr Lu, Miss Vertandez, Mr Addams, please do not do this."

Natasha saw that everyone – even Tony – was surprised by JARVIS' input, although for different reasons.

"JARVIS," Lu said, obviously not sure how to proceed, "I remember you. You were… you were the one who got me out…"

"I was alerted within minutes of the data dump during the events of DC," JARVIS explained. "I alerted Mr Stark, who took control of the situation as best he could. While he sealed as much information as he could from other, dangerous parties, I was coordinating as many teams of Stark Industry Security, the police, Homeland Security, the FBI, the military, and various other government bodies as well as all Stark Industries technology that was available in order to recue as many compromised agents and their families as possible. I regret to say that I was not quick enough in many cases, but I did manage to save some lives, along with Mr Stark, who ensured that as many people as possible were not left vulnerable."

"You were the one who sent the CIA to my house? You saved de Lares' son and his other daughter?" Addams asked.

"And you saved my nephew," Vertandez added, and Natasha couldn't read her at all at that moment.

"That is correct," JARVIS said, "And now I am begging you to let Mr Stark and Miss Romanov live. Mr Stark is my family."

No one moved and no one spoke after that. Natasha had no idea what was going on in the others' heads. She had no idea what was going on in _her_ head.

There was just silence as three agents who had lost so much thought about what JARVIS had said. Natasha knew that she would accept whatever verdict the others came to after their deliberation, so in the silence she saw the people who meant so much to her and mentally said her goodbyes to them in case she didn't live to see them again.

Thor. Hulk. Fury and Hill. Steve. Bruce. Tony.

Clint.

"Don't seek us out."

Natasha watched, her mind quiet, as Vertandez, Lu and Addams walked out of the room, to disappear without taking their vengeance. She knew that she would more than likely never see them again, and that if she did, it was likely that they would try to kill her again, but for now she had been saved by Tony and JARVIS. Natasha knew she didn't deserve it.

Five minutes later, Tony turned around, and Natasha had to keep herself from flinching and closing her eyes at what she was sure she'd see.

She didn't though.

That meant she didn't miss the raw, unmasked _Tony_ that gazed at her, his face a tangled web of emotions and thoughts, but none of it was directed at her. He was showing her what he was feeling, not making a statement without words. As it was, Natasha recognised the pain, the sorrow, the guilt, the affection, the terror, the confusion, the longing, the horror and the acceptance. She let go of her own mask at the sight, felt the thousands of complicated emotions as they showed themselves on her face. She had no idea what he saw, but eventually he nodded and cut her free with the laser.

They stood there for a moment, before…

"Tony." _I'm sorry. Thank you. Why did you do that? I can never fix this. I can never stop trying._

"I know, Tasha." _I told you, I'd still be here._

And he was.


End file.
